Running Interference
by SwingingBeskar
Summary: The unlikely team of Galen Marek and Corran Horn embark on another mission, thinking it is just another "get in, collect intel, get out". However, this time is different and the two find themselves on a hostile planet with a galaxy shaking secret. Still with a mission to run, and an escape to plan, the two must intercept and destroy this powerful new tool discovered. Not slash.
1. Chapter 1

Corran sat down and kicked his feet up onto the scuffed metal table top. The heavily polished caf coloured boots sat in stark contrast to the rumpled olive clothes of their owner and the smoky grime of the surrounding bar. The thick air in the dim tavern held a sickly, sweet twang that Corran had grown accustomed to over the long years of his life. The humming of many multi-coloured patrons speaking in their numerous tongues was nearly mesmerising. It swept him into an almost meditative state. So many lives cycled through the establishment, each one holding its own woes and joy. It was amazing to him how the Force turned even in these places, wheeling its way through the myriad destinies of those who could not even feel its touch. The thought was intriguing to him. He could no longer imagine life without the Force. It was threaded into his entire being.

Corran sighed at the thought. It brought back memories he would rather not face this day. Instead, he took a sip of the bright green fluid in his glass and shifted deeper into the thickly upholstered chair he was occupying. He was waiting for someone, and that someone was doing a good job at being late. The greying Jedi glanced around at the surrounding tables, looking for the man who had summoned him. "You would think the one who actually called the meeting would be present first," he grumbled to himself under his breath. However, Corran was not held waiting for much longer. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement near the front door. Indeed, a tall young man, darkly clad, stepped through the door.

His fluid gait led gracefully through the undulating crowd to finally stop at Corran's small table. Marek smiled grimly and pulled a chair up for himself. "Good evening. I didn't expect you to be here so early," he said as he leaned back into his seat and pulled a booted foot up onto his knee. A server droid whirred up to him, unobtrusively waiting for an order to be taken.

Corran resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He spoke while Marek punched in an order on the droids glowing chest piece. "I have been waiting for nearly half an hour. They would have thrown me out by now, had I not indulged myself," he said, indicating the drink set on the floating metal coaster.

"You still don't drink?" Marek asked half bewildered and half teasing. He knew the old man's preferences, but bothering him about it was always a favourite pastime for any occasion.

"No." Was Corran's bland reply. Indeed, the master knew exactly what thought processes were going through Marek's head at that moment.

Marek held in a chuckle, moving to the business at hand as an alternative conversation topic. Indeed, he had tarried far too long on asking this. It had been ages (or what felt like ages) since he and Corran had even spoken and just being in the legend's presence was invigorating. "How are you, by the way?" He asked, not caring if anyone overheard the two friends' conversation. It would be good as well to lay a façade down anyways, before anything too suspicious was spoken.

"I am good. Now that that business with Abeloth is taken care of, even more so," Corran said truthfully. He almost sighed the words, in all honesty. That had been a horrible and nasty business…

Marek nodded while the droid made his reappearance. It carefully set down a tall glass filled with a bubbling, neon pink concoction. "She was a weird one. I'm glad your family is safe, though. I would have helped if I had not been tied up in another _situation_."

Corran shook his head, reminiscing of the horrors that female had caused. "No, you had your mission and I had mine. You were only doing good anyway. The Jedi would have been in deeper trouble if you had failed at that time." Corran sighed. "It seems that even with as many of us as there are, we are stretched thin." He lowered his voice. "Especially with the Sith."

"Actually…" Marek leaned forward, changing his stance, and met Corran's jade eyes. "The Sith are the main reason why I wanted to meet you here," he said quietly while using the Force to dampen the sounds around him.

Corran could have guessed as much, but was still somewhat surprised. He hadn't expected to be _right_. Immediately, his mind began to whir with many possible reasons as to why exactly Marek would have found him and called this meeting with him. Why did the man need help? While he and Corran had gone on a dozen missions together, Marek still went on countless more alone. Why would Marek know about something that would warrant a clandestine meeting, instead of taking it to the Council as Marek usually (presumably, that is) did with any new leads he had uncovered… Corran schooled his expression into a stoic look of patience. "What kind of business do you have concerning them?" He probed.

Marek pursed his lips carefully tapping the Force to feel Corran out. His touches were timid, but he was able to glean a vague idea of what sort of questions were going through the old man's head. Corran could be a hard negotiator and Marek knew the old man was un-fond of more "demanding" jobs. So, he decided to quell the fears the master was probably feeling. "It was mainly going to be reconnaissance…" He added even more quietly, "For the Imperial Remnant."

Marek easily read the surprise in both the other's Force-Aura and Corran's face. "The Remnant?" Corran asked carefully. Of course, he knew that Marek did much of his business with the Imperials, he never thought that Marek would actually… His mind jumped to Jaina and he wondered if the girl had put Marek up to this… Or if she even knew.

"Well?" Marek interrupted.

Corran sucked in a deep breath. He didn't know how he would be able to decline at this point. "I will think about it, but I need more details than just the facts that it is for the Sith and the Imperials," he said, giving the grinning young man a hard stare.

"Well, I am sure once we are able to discuss everything and lay out a plan, you wont refuse," Marek said, moving quickly to down his drink. "How much longer are you free?" He asked.

Corran shrugged. "I can go home whenever. Mirax is off planet for a week."

"Good," Marek said. He stood, rubbing his hands together satisfied. "Your place or mine?" He asked waggling his eyebrows.

Corran's brow folded as he unfolded himself from his chair to follow the young man. "Don't say it like that," he growled.


	2. Chapter 2

A shorter than average man stood on the bridge of a Star Destroyer's bridge. His charcoal grey uniform was neatly pressed and impeccable. A distinct, crooked scar traced its way up the man's temple. His jet hair was slicked back against his head, a thick white stripe beginning at his hairline was visible slicing through the ebony locks. From the point of view of one down below the officer's catwalk, he looked carved in stone: a stern, immovable figure amidst the bustling bridge of the war cruiser, merely standing in deep thought with a grim countenance and nothing to say.

Jagged Fel, however, was anything but torpid. His steely green eyes were set upon the humming, brightly lit, globe beneath him. The planet Coruscant always resembled a bee hive in his mind's eye. The lull of the ship's bridge was head clearing and the myriad beeping of the many pieces of machinery and equipment on the bridge was palliating to his anxious mind. It did well to pull him into much needed focus… Today would be a historical day: the day the Empire was given its first democratically elected Head of State.

Despite his initial reservations, he was glad that he had stepped up to act as supervising director of the approaching transfer of power. He still couldn't believe it. His emotions were whirling in so many directions it was difficult to keep up. Even with the passing weeks, the novelty and sheer realisation of what he had accomplished for the Imperial Remnant was baffling. It was staggering to think that it was partly his doing and, though it had been an exhausting string of weeks, he was pleased he had gone through with every aspect of the planning for this day. Indeed, it had been a challenge where he had no expertise, but neither did any of the other Imperial officials and that thought gave him some degree of consolidation.

His mind meandered to the man whom he would relinquish his power to… Vitor Reige was an honourable man. Jag would have suffered no other member of the Moff Council nor military commander to take his place other than Reige. His pride was extinguished when a still small voice in the back of his head chastised himself. _You would not have won the election regardless._ It was true. His public image had been tarnished and his chances of having won fairly had been slim… Jag mentally shook the memories from his head. They would chase him in circles and right now he had business to attend to. He broke his stillness, squaring his shoulders and taking a deep breath through his nostrils. The Imperial Remnant was in another man's hands now. He turned on his heel to face the bridge commander. "Take us to the docks, Commander," Jag ordered.

The greying, middle-aged officer gave a crisp salute before Jag strode down the aisle and stepped out to begin making his way to his shuttle in the hanger. Jag's polished, black leather boots clicked alone as he made his way down to the shuttle hanger. It was a huge space. Orderly lines of soldiers stood at attention in an array in front to the shuttle to give their former head of state one last, glorious display of military power.

When his eyes settled on the small box-shaped craft however, his attention was immediately diverted to the woman standing beside the lowered boarding ramp. She was dressed plainly in a pair of neat, dark brown Jedi robes. Jagged quickly made his way to his wife, still very aware of the many officers and troops standing at attention in the large space. He took her hand and graced it with a soft kiss. "Jaina," he greeted meeting her eyes with a loving warmth.

Jaina Solo Fel raised an eyebrow only slightly at the formality in her husband's tone. She returned his formal greeting with one of her own but quickly moved on. "Jagged. Are you ready?" She was eager to be in private with him. The stifling of politics and management of the public image was always a damper on their relationship. Soon it would be over however. In any case, she meant to discuss with him his plan of what to do _after_ this. She could feel a hint of anxiety mounting quietly in the background of his mind like a dark thundercloud far away on the horizon.

He nodded. "Yes, let us do this." He motioned for her to take the lead and followed closely up the ramp. It closed on its own as he found his seat at a small, round table. As soon as the airlock was sealed he spoke up again, this time with none of the formality from before. "I am exhausted from this," he said absently, feeling the weight drop from his shoulders as he admitted the fact.

Jaina sat across from him, brushing a lock of hair out of her face. "One more day," she commented. The marked feeling of the craft lifting off and beginning its decent towards the planet was evident in the background of her consciousness.

Jag snorted, adding monotonously, "Do you forget the ceremony on Bastion?" He straightened and partly forgot his tiredness. "When this is over, I will no longer be Head of State, but we will still be required to attend the ceremony on Bastion," he explained, completely serious.

Jaina fought the urge to roll her eyes and instead scowled. "You sound as though you _enjoy_ these games." She quickly added, "But being a guest at a ceremony is far different than planning a transfer of power within an empire," she chided.

"True," Jag conceded. "I… _we _will be merely a statement piece to the public." Jag slowly waved his hand in an arc as he spoke, "One final appearance by the condemned," he said dryly.

"Don't say it like that. The people still love you. They just need change. Anyways, why do you need their approval, Jag?" She asked growing only slightly concerned at her husband's behaviour. She knew he was tired but the trace of something else was beginning to nag at her. There was a shade to his Force aura that had not been there before he had left this morning to attend to his duties.

Jag stiffened. "I don't need their approval, Jaina. I only want..." His voice took on a worn tone and his green eyes showed a glimmer of something Jaina had rarely seen in the man: uncertainty. "I want what is good for the Empire," he finished.

"You doubt Reige." It was a statement not a question. Jaina reached out with her feelings, struggling to grasp her husband's thoughts. She was certain she had hit the mark with her assumption.

Jag lowered his eyes. "Yes," he grappled to elaborate. "I am less doubtful of his leadership capabilities than I am about whether he will be able to hold it," Jag confessed.

Jaina tilted her head in thought. "I don't think you should worry about that, Jag," she offered.

A stubborn glaze washed over Jag's face and it returned to political impassivity. He seemed to have reasoned himself into believing Jaina's words. "It is in another's hands," he said as if he was repeating something he had heard earlier.

Jaina gave him a smile, attempting to lighten the grey mood that had fallen over them. "Relax, Jag. If it helps, I don't have any bad feelings about it."

Jag nodded but his next words were cut off by a woman's voice over the intercom. "We will be arriving on the Senate Grounds in one minute."

Jag set his shoulders and straightened his collar before standing. "Well, whatever may fall, now we have business to attend to," he said. His voice was less morose now.

Jaina stood as well, smoothing down the front of her robes as the ship made its landing. The hissing of the smooth replusor engines quickly died down and the airlock popped open with a swoosh. She took her husband's hand and planted a soft kiss on his jawline before they stepped out into the golden light of a late, Coruscanti evening.

Jagged Fel and his mate were met with considerable show of force. The parade ground was filled with lined garrisons of Imperial and GA forces in alternating rows. Surrounding the landing pads, and a distance away was the public and the press. An aisle opened in front of the couple that led directly towards the large, bronze doors of the senate building. A greeting party of several officials stood there at the beginning of the walkway in ceremonial attire.

Vitor Reige was one of the attendees. The tall young man was dressed in an elaborate black tunic ornamented with various shining medals running down the left breast. The insignia of the Empire was delicately weaved into the embroidery of the material in a subtle pattern. A black pair of trousers with a silver stripe running laterally downwards and a pair of polished military boots completed the look.

Reige flashed a bright smile and saluted his Head of State. "Good evening, Jagged, Jaina Fel," he greeted the two cordially.

Jagged inclined his head marginally. "Good evening." A hint of the overwhelming anxiety Reige was undeniably feeling touched the other man's face. It was present if only a little, but Jag picked up on it easily. He was all too familiar with the sentiments. "Are you ready for this?"

"Yes, I am ready. It will be an honour to lead the Empire in your stead, Fel," Reige smoothly covered. "Now, if you will, we may go inside." He lowered his voice. "The security forces are undoubtedly fretting with every minute we spend out here."

Jagged nodded, taking the lead down the aisle with Jaina beside him. Reige quickly took his place beside the Fels while his attendants trailed unobtrusively behind.

Jag had adopted the crisp military bearing that came so naturally in such situations. As he strode, he continued the conversation. "You will get used to dealing with them," Jagged assured.

Jaina smirked, not sure if Jag was joking or being literal. She guessed at the latter and turned to look at Reige from across Jag's shoulders. "You will get _very_ used to them. Just think of them as wall décor and it will become less of a hassle."

Reige raised an eyebrow. "So _that_ is how you deal with them…" An amused light came into his blue eyes. The conversation was at least taking the edge off before the grand event.

Jagged smiled grimly. "You only want them when you need them, and then is when they are not there. It is better to always have your own plan, as I am sure you well know." Jag stopped at the heavy entrance to the Senate chambers. A pair of stone faced, human guards arrayed in traditional blue armour moved to hoist open the doors for the distinguished guests. He would have said more had an explosion not rocketed him into cold darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

Jaina's danger sense peaked only moments before the force of the explosion impacted with the group of dignitaries. A cacophony of noise immediately followed the flash… then nothing.

Time slowed. Several things happened at once. The group of peers was flung forcefully backwards. Heat and peppering debris singed flesh and fabric. The doorkeepers were disintegrated. Jaina felt her feet be lifted off the ground. She instinctively closed her eyes and flung a Force shield upwards to protect herself and Jag from the sudden fire licking up from the doors. She let herself fly, twisting mid-air to land in a deep crouch. Her reflexes were fast enough for her dark eyes to track Jag's pathway through the air. She extended her hand and the Force to soften the man's landing.

He still hit the duracreet hard like a sack of weights, crumpling in a limp, smoking pile. Another dark figure rolled to a stop beside her husband. Blood and embers marred Vitor Reige's body. Jaina's panicked mind was thrown starkly back into the chaotic present by the sight. Her lightsaber snapped to her hand, but it was unneeded. Her brown eyes quickly took stock of the situation and searched for any assailants. There was no one…The explosion did not seem to have been choregraphed with an attack.

Her hearing was still missing. Muffled yells and a scream could be deciphered from the heavy silence. The air was thick with dust and black smoke. Security officers were flooding from myriad directions. Some were charging inside of the building. Others were fanning out in a protective circle around the public figures, still others were barking harsh orders into their comsets. Wailing medical speeders were flying in, being directed by officer's in navy uniforms.

The Force whirled like a hurricane of emotions and frazzled presences, but she remained calm, an eye in the storm. She needed to be, lest the feelings distract her. Discipline set through her form and she forced herself up in order to get to Reige's side.

One of the officers now came pounding towards her just as she stood. His eyes wide and bulging, he quickly said, "Mistress Fel! You are alive?!"

Jaina bit back the furious retort that rose to her tongue as she took a few fast strides towards Reige and Jag. The steps were a mistake that she paid for when a thundering pain shot through her head and her equilibrium dropped, causing the world to sway immensely. She ground her teeth together, however, caring not. She ignored the baffled officer and made it to the men's side.

Reige was still smoking. She used the Force to smother the dying embers embedded in various places of his tunic. He was alive, but severely burned all along his front torso. His quickly ebbing Force-presence was enough to make her yell. "Medic! Now!"

The officer who had originally spoken to her now turned and began to call and flail worriedly for the medics to come quickly.

As the man behind her made himself useful, she turned to her unconscious husband. Jagged was scored with multiple, small burns but it seemed Jaina's Force shield had taken the brunt of the explosion… Thankfully. She let out a breath in some relief. A trail of dark blood ran down his right temple, but he was certainly alive, that much she could tell by the Force. His presence was dull and grey but not lost and still strong.

She turned to face Reige again, just as a Rodian first-responder skidded to a halt and swiftly dropped to her knees beside Reige. She ignored Jaina. Instead, her fast, green, fingers immediately began to search for a pulse on the new Head of State. "The Head of State is down!" Her nasally voice called over her shoulder. Jaina stretched out with the Force to give the man a dose of her own strength.

Two other medics, one a human male and the other a male Devaronian, quickly joined the Rodian. The Rodian rose from her place and wrapped her gentle suctioned fingers around Jaina's shoulder. "Are you alright?" She asked hastily, meeting Jaina's dark irises with her own bulbous iridescent eyes.

Jaina nodded. Her mind shifted gears to her husband. She half turned to face. "Take care of Jag," she ordered.

The Rodian gave a quick nod and knelt beside the former Head of State. While she evaluated the man, Jaina sapped her own strength, channelling it as best as she could to both the men whom she knelt between. Her forte had never been healing but she could give them what she could.

Reige was being carefully yet swiftly transferred onto a stretcher. A different officer stood not far away at the med-speeder. He was giving stringent orders to the driver.

"We need another stretcher here stat!" The Rodian shouted from where she was bent over Jag.

Jaina head snapped up at hearing the order. She looked concernedly at the Rodian, who quickly explained. "He is stable now but needs medical attention and must be removed from the area. You may need to come as well. Please, come with me," she said as two other medics arrived speedily with another gurney.

Jaina pursed her lips, torn. She gave her husband one last, long, look before standing. Her heart yearned to go with Jag, but he was not in any imminent danger. She was needed here for now. She would see him again. She set the Rodian with a hard stare. "Take care of him," she ordered. "I will join him later."

The Rodian nodded curtly. She would have never given anyone but a Jedi such a choice but trusted the Sword of the Jedi had a plan, surely. The two newcomers were finished placing Jag carefully onto the gurney.

_He will be fine. _Her rushed mind countered her sensibilities and she wanted to leave… She pulled her gaze from Jag with an effort. She at least needed to find out what happened. She glanced around the clear zone that she was now in the centre of.

A rare occurrence in the metropolis, the sky was clear and silent. A fire squad was already nearly finished extinguishing the flames. Medical speeders had turned off their sirens or had left. Security speeders were no longer running. It was incredible and felt horrendously wrong. It shouldn't have been over so quickly… so anticlimactically.

Her eyes spotted a tall, red-haired human male standing on the fringes of the carnage. He had the bearing of one in charge. Indeed, at the moment, he was pointing to the horizon and demanding something from a young Duros officer.

Jaina made her way resolutely towards the man. She longed to be with Jag, but needed to know what had happened to cause this disaster. Indeed, she had an inkling that her husband would be disappointed if she did not get some facts herself before someone else briefed him. At least, the static in her ears was beginning to ebb.

As she approached the officer, the man did not turn to face her. Instead, he dismissed the Duros with a sharp flick of his hand and turned to look down at his datapad.

"Hey!" The man reluctantly turned to face her, and she read the brass nameplate on his left breast. "Abner, what happened here?" She quizzed heatedly.

"There was an explosion, Mistress Fel," he answered non-helpfully. Scowling under his thick moustache, he added, "Have you received medical attention yet, Mistress?"

Jaina had to remind herself to stay at least relatively calm even if the officer had a sour attitude. "I have no need of it," she stated through a tight jaw. "Where did it originate? How did this get past your security? Was it an assassin or a preloaded detonation?"

Abner did an admirable job of not looking anxious despite her slew of questions. "It seems to have been a pre-placed device. How it was placed or when we are uncertain. The explosion appears to have been set off either when the doors were opened or remotely. No known abnormalities were noted around the perimeter of the Senate Building…" He took a deep breath and continued, "We are not certain on a lot of things, Mistress," he finished exasperatedly.

Jaina chewed over the pieces of information. If the device had been detonated remotely, the culprit would have had to have been relatively close. A part of her was disappointed the guilty party had not been present or she would have given him/her a kriffing bad day. She nodded before looking around. She counted three forms now covered with plain white blankets. They were obviously dead. She turned down the heat in her voice as she asked, "How many casualties?"

Abner looked down at his datapad seemingly unaffected. It wasn't unusual. He had to keep a clear head in such situations. "Five were killed. The two door guards were disintegrated, three security officers were killed. Those in the Imperial party were wounded to varying degrees and have been loaded off site. I suggest you join them, Mistress." He met her eyes coolly. "My men are busy cleaning this up and you really should have someone look over you." His words dripped condescension, but they also rang with truth.

It was apparent she had gleaned all she could from the stiff officer… Her yearning for Jagged came back upon her in full force and this time she gave in. "I will join them now, yes," she said proudly.

Abner had the decency to supress his smirk. "A speeder will be here to transport you immediately, Mistress," he said then turned on his heel to give his orders.

_Good,_ Jaina thought dryly. She was beginning to grow a little sore and tired now as well. She reminded herself this was only the beginning of what was going to be a long day… A black limo with the Imperial insignia stopped at the edge of the ring. She recognised the driver as Jag's personal chauffeur. With a sigh, she threw herself into a jog towards the speeder and reached out in the Force to find her husband. _Alright Jag, you better be okay when I get there…_

**XxX**

**Coruscant, same day at 2100.**

Marek passed a few furtive glances up and down the hallway before he opened the door to his apartment. He flipped on a switch and yellow light filled his messy apartment. The space was large for an apartment in this district of Coruscant.

The door opened straightaway into the main room. A large window across from the doorway overlooked the squat skyline of the Industrial Sector. A sofa was arranged in an awkward diagonal direction in the middle of the room. It partially faced a black vidscreen that hung on the far-right wall. The disorderly room smelled of mechanical oil mingled with stale foodstuffs. The other pieces of sparse furniture were a strange blend of luxury and ghetto tastes.

Corran's eyes scanned the unused sofa with its piles of datapads, books, and parchments as Marek made his way into the kitchen area. Corran carefully placed his cloak onto the cushions. It was obvious that Juno had not been present for some time. The captain was a stickler for neatness… her own special form of neatness, that is. He cautiously broached the subject. "Where is Juno?" He asked. The last time he had spoken with Marek, the couple had been going through _issues…_

A half smile tugged at Marek's face and he turned to open the chiller in order to hide his expression. "She left on a mission a couple months ago, for the Empire," he said with a hint of yearning. He missed that woman.

"I see…" He was glad that there was no anger in the other man's voice, suggesting no, still-ongoing issues between the two. Corran moved to the window to take in the dull landscape before him.

Unlike, most of the rest of the city, the Industrial Sector was less bright in the night-time hours. A low-flying weave of lights was the only sign of life around the grey monotonous buildings making up the churning factories.

Marek finished rummaging in the chiller. He rose with two fizzy drinks in each hand and headed to a scarred table heaped with datapads. He worked on making room on the round, wood table top. "It was supposedly, only meant to take a few weeks. I don't know what happened." His face brightened with his next thought. "I can find out when we talk to our contact in the Empire."

Corran raised his brow and moved to take a seat at the presently clean table. Marek folded himself into a chair across from his old partner. The elderly Jedi took the offered drink. "You don't know what happened? Little suspicious don't you think?" Corran could not help but feel an edge for worry. Juno had become a dear friend of his own during his sporadic missions with Marek. He reached out his awareness to try to pick up on Marek's emotions.

The young man put Corran's fears to rest when he shrugged casually. "I spoke with her a few weeks ago and she was _very_ disgruntled." Marek smirked.

"Well, that is good I suppose," Corran replied with a snort. He quickly changed the subject. "So, who is the Imperial Contact?" He met Marek's dark eyes with his own level, green gaze.

Marek broke the contact abruptly and stretched down to scoop a datapad from a pile off the floor. He blatantly shied away from the question. "He isn't really important."

Corran sighed. "Well, you dragged me all the way here. The least you could do is answer one of my questions," Corran stated flatly.

Marek sniffed feigning hurt. "I can only say so much about my contact… He is a good guy and both me and Juno trust him with our lives. He is a part of the Imperial Council."

Corran opened his fizzy drink satisfied with Marek's amendments. The can opened with a quick snap-hiss, reminding the greying Jedi of a lightsaber igniting. "Alright… You still do a lot of work for the Empire, don't you?"

Marek answered the rhetorical question indifferently. "Why wouldn't I? You know my past." An apprehensive light came into the man's eyes. "Besides, the Jedi are very difficult to deal with nowadays. I don't think the public trusts them."

A heavy sigh escaped Corran's lips and he leaned deeper into the chair. "True. Luke is right in thinking it is time for the Jedi to take a step back."

"Is he still going to move the training centre?" Marek quizzed.

Corran shook his head. For that, he truly had no answer. Of late, Master Skywalker had been secluding himself. Everyone assumed he was searching old records for the best location to move a Jedi a school, but so far nothing had been set in stone. "If he plans to do so, it will not be anytime soon."

Marek chewed his lip thoughtfully. "I don't understand it," he mused absent mindedly. "How easily a people can forget their old heroes." He said the words with an evident tinge of disgust in his deep tones.

"I will admit that I am disappointed in the public's choices." Corran had seen this phenomenon happen before and it always ended in the same manner. He had a feeling Marek could foresee the end as well.

The man affirmed Corran's assumptions. "They have no need of a saviour until they need saving," he stated glumly. His memory spanned decades. Most of that time he had spent in one form of death or another but the fragments he had seen repeated the same galactic tragedy.

Corran nodded slowly. He took another drink of sweet carbonated liquid as his mind replayed the same thoughts that were going through his companion. It was Marek who broke the momentary silence. It seemed he was finally ready for business in full. The thin man flicked his long finger at the datapad to awaken it and then scrolled down to a map.

"Do you recognise this sector?" Marek asked with waggling eyebrows as he handed Corran the item.

Corran put a hand to his chin and examined the datapad. An unknown hyperspace route sat in the left corner of the view. Otherwise, the sector was a starry maze. A small red circle enveloped a speck in the centre of the screen. He squinted at the name floating below the circle. It read in Aurebesh: VESPAR. "I don't know," he confessed.

Marek grinned. "I knew you wouldn't. Zoom out a bit."

Corran did as suggested, growing more and more suspecting. He had no clue what the man wanted him to see. The hyperspace route was more in view now, but he still could not recognise the path. The stars were a dense curtain running along the bending course. Corran shook his head again and laid the datapad onto the table. "I don't recognise any of it," he said, meeting Marek's bright stare with exasperation. "Am I supposed to recognise it?"

"Actually, no," Marek grinned again, taking the piece of equipment once more. He placed it on the table top and clicked a button on the edge of the metal pad. A hologram sprung to life of what was previously on the screen. "This is a new path."

Corran knew his surprise showed like a blooming firework in the Force. He didn't bother to hide it. "The Empire forged it; I assume?"

Marek nodded. "Apparently, the Empire had implemented a new exploration operation a few years ago. This is what Juno was called to do, I believe." He flicked the floating blue, meandering line and the map zoomed out to show a large chunk of the known galaxy.

Corran instantly recognised the new portion as the Eastern fringes of Hutt Space… A wild, uncharted tangle in the galactic arms. The thick line representing the new hyperspace route led straight through the dense starscape of that sector, continuing eastwards, seemingly towards the fringes of known space and the galactic border. Corran examined the map for a long moment as he let the possibilities of why the Empire would _want _a hyperlane in that region…

Marek merely let the revelation sink in. He was watching the older man with an intense stare, looking for any clue of how the information would lean the master in his thinking. In the Force, the grey man was a still face of water.

Corran formed his question carefully. "Why is the Empire so interested in this sector?"

Marek felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. "_That_ is why we are here." Marek leaned forward and met his friend's eyes. "That route leads straight to the Sith world, Kesh." 


End file.
